Idiots can think what idiots think, this is an artistic pursuit!
I have a question- where's a good place (that is not youtube) to upload sound files?
As of now I'm a secular person with a strong family background of Christianity; as a result I tend to write from a secular perspective but occasionally use Biblical references that have been distorted. I'm aware that this may be vaguely blasphemeous, so I hope this does not cause too much tension.
Anyway, the verses I'm submitting here have absolutely nothing to do with the above, so it should be okay: it would serve as an interesting contrast. Meter wise, the main difference really would be that the chorus is in the same flow, as opposed to sung.
This actually comes from a project that stemmed from a far-fetched hypothetical I had in high school- "what would it be like if somehow there was cause for a violent revolution in a country like Australia?" It's a bit...gangsta but please...ignore that :P
Flashback
I remember days from the times of old,
Fragmented images outlined in bold,
Of bats and toys and tennis racquets,
And matchbox racers and plastic maquettes,
And a time when Maccas was a four star restaurant,
And sexism was a schoolyard taunt,
And socks rolled high and uniforms pressed,
When our mothers dictated how we were dressed,
And high pitched shrilling and temper tantrums,
And rules of playtime chanted like mantras,
Times long past into the land of never,
Some things haven't changed others lost forever,
And each image flashes me by,
As I sit here feeling myself gradually die,
Feeling myself slipping away as I drift,
As my mind envelops in a hazy red mist,
CHORUS:
Blood on my fingertips pressed to my shoulder,
Holes punched through my body and the world gets colder,
And fires flicker from the remnants of a fight,
Reflected in my eyes with the fading light,
Life force leaking rich red leaving me drained,
Once white top irrevocably stained,
No longer concerning, lying on the ground,
Perception becomes incomprehensible sound,
No longer caring only waiting,
For the outcome of forces debating,
Over my own body, watching other bodies crumble,
Ashes to ashes dust to dust I hear myself mumble,
Words coming out in a stream start to merge,
And the points of existence begin to converge,
As consciousness tilts towards white singularity,
And prepares to depart from reality,
Years gone by thrown in a blender,
Various packets marked return to sender,
Each item a varying shade of uniform grey,
Becoming more indistinct each passing day,
More pressing concerns replace simple trifles,
High-maintenance sports cars and assault rifles,
And a burger wolfed down hastily in the back seat,
Of a car in the shadow of a back street,
Looking over oneâs shoulder, always on the run,
Rules the same but they just took out all the fun,
Now the big bad world of political correctness,
Watch what you project, nothing is directionless,
Place your faith in propaganda,
And engage in backstabbing and opportunistic slander,
Play the game, still a game, always was that game,
Second childhood, I somehow thought that was a shame,
[CHORUS]
Past caring, past feeling any pain,
Nothing more to lose, nothing more to gain,
The cause that I stood for, perhaps thrown all away,
No longer relevant, ends where I lay,
Glancing around as if for one last time,
Marvel at the squalor of dust and grime,
And the blood of comrades, turning dark, forming pools,
And inwardly shake my head, we all were fools,
To ever believe we could make a real difference,
With ideas, effort, dedication and persistence,
When the world is already engulfed in its own flame,
Too late to save it, just try to pass the blame,
No longer wishing to hold on to this perception,
Journey through the tunnel to the final reception,
Sensation of being drawn gently back,
And my vision fades to black,
And my vision fades to black...
[ftb]
(2006)
